


rose, liz, printemps, verdure

by shreds_and_patches



Category: 14th Century CE RPF
Genre: (Also They're Both Children), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, An Especially Fancy Slice, Arranged Marriage, But Still: A Slice, Child Marriage, Family Fluff, In a Historical Context for Political Reasons and Nothing Squicky Happens, Lots of Background Angst Though, Multi, Parent-Child Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shreds_and_patches/pseuds/shreds_and_patches
Summary: Richard II meets with Charles VI of France at Ardres, in 1396, to finalize a treaty and solemnize a marriage...between Richard's son, Edward of Sheen, and Charles' daughter, Isabelle de Valois.
Relationships: Anne of Bohemia Queen of England/Richard II of England, Anne of Bohemia Queen of England/Richard II of England/Robert de Vere Duke of Ireland, Charles VI de France/Isabeau of Bavaria, Isabella of Valois & Original Male Child Character
Comments: 19
Kudos: 14
Collections: Histories Ficathon XI





	rose, liz, printemps, verdure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheshireArcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/gifts).



> This AU takes as its chief point of divergence the idea that Richard II and Anne of Bohemia were able to have children, and that after experiencing several miscarriages early in her marriage, Anne gave birth to her first son in 1388, followed by two daughters and another son by the time the story takes place in 1396—obviously, another major divergence is that Anne doesn't die in 1394 in this universe. It is also established that Robert de Vere is still alive and in England; perhaps the Appellant Crisis in this universe was defused earlier. It isn't the focus of the story, so I haven't decided, although I suspect Robert convinced his wife, Philippa de Coucy, to request an annulment instead of asking for one himself and that took away the pretext for the Appellants' initial actions.
> 
> The title of the fic comes from a rondeau by Guillaume de Machaut (c. 1300–77), the greatest and most influential of medieval French composers. I chose the song because the rose and lily ( _liz_ ) imagery reflects the alliance of England and France depicted in the story, and the springtime imagery ( _printemps_ = 'springtime'; _verdure_ = 'greenery'), despite the fall/winter setting of the story, reflects both the youth of the bride and groom and the hope for peace in the future—and also because it's a beautiful song that's period-appropriate. You can hear it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBKsO5nQCfs) (lyrics are available at the link). The sentiment is a bit more romantic than little Neddy and Isabelle are ready for, but they will have a happy marriage when they grow up, because this is my AU and I said so. 
> 
> I am, in general, _far_ better versed in the goings-on of the English court in the late fourteenth century than the French court. I've taken at least one artistic liberty—Isabeau of Bavaria wasn't present at Ardres in real life—but any actual errors are entirely my own fault. Chalk them up to this being an AU. I have also taken some liberties with the levels of hands-on parenting depicted, but as Richard and Anne were unusually close for a medieval royal couple, not even maintaining separate households most of the time, I feel there's some justification for imagining them as unconventionally involved parents.

**Prologue: September 1396**

"If we're at war with France, why aren't we fighting them?"

Richard blinks, and then smiles, at his son's question. Sitting in your solar explaining international politics to a child, complicated as they may be, counts as a pleasant distraction when your household is bustling around to prepare for an international voyage, even a relatively short one, just across the Channel. "We're under a truce, Neddy," he says. "We have been since you were a baby."

"Oh," Neddy says. He considers this for a moment, and then frowns. "But if we have a truce already, why do we need another one?" He scrambles up onto the settle beside Richard, and Richard ruffles his hair.

"It wasn't a very long one," Richard says. "Only three years." 

"But I'm _eight_ ," Neddy says. 

"I haven't forgotten," Richard says, wrapping an arm around Neddy and kissing the top of his curly reddish-blond head. 

"Why aren't we fighting them now if the truce expired when I was three?"

"It's a lot of work, and money, to fight a war," Richard says. "That's why we're renewing the truce we made back then. But when _this_ truce expires, you and the Princess Isabelle will be all grown up and married for years, with children of your own, and even if we don't have a real peace treaty, you won't even _want_ to fight with France, because you and the King of France will be brothers. One of your sisters might be married in France someday, too, so there will be a French queen of England and an English queen of France."

Neddy squirms, but it's fairly perfunctory. "I already don't want to fight with France," he says. "I want to be a crusader like my uncle the King of Hungary, or Henry of Lancaster."

Richard shakes his head—he will never understand why, or how, God saw fit to give him a son who worships the ground Henry Bolingbroke walks on. Richard adores Neddy fiercely, and Neddy clearly loves him right back. They've always been a close-knit family. It's just that every time they see Henry, Neddy wants to hear all about the siege of Vilnius _again_ , which he finds far more interesting than stories about his own father's Irish expedition. "Maybe someday." Richard smiles. "My father was a great warrior, after all—though he _did_ fight the French, of course." 

Neddy smiles up at his father. "I know," he says. "Did you ever fight in the war? Before the truce?"

Richard shakes his head. "I wasn't old enough when the fighting was really going on. But I want to _end_ the war, Neddy," he says. "It has gone on too long—even your grandfather was a little boy, younger than you are now, when it started."

"And it will be over when I marry Isabelle?"

"We're going to become allies," Richard says. "They'll get some ports back, and their princess will become queen of England, many years from now, when you're king."

"Which won't be for a long time, right? Because that's after you _die_ …"

Neddy's blue eyes are wide, and Richard pulls him into a hug. " _Many_ years from now. You and Isabelle will have grown children yourselves by then, probably."

"Ewwww!" Neddy sticks out his tongue.

"You see?" Richard says. "That's how far in the future it will be. Because I became king when I was scarcely older than you are now, and I'm _not_ letting that happen to you." He taps his son's nose and smiles. 

"So why do I have to get married now?"

"That's how these things work," Richard says. "But your life won't be very different for a long time. You'll still have your lessons and play with your sisters and brother—you'll just also be married. It'll be like having another sister, and I know you love your sisters."

Neddy nods contemplatively. He's always been protective of Elizabeth and little Joan, although he's becoming less interested in playing make-believe games with Elizabeth and more interested in swordsmanship since he's been old enough to study the latter. Anne had written to her brother Wenceslaus a few years ago, when Neddy was about to begin his training, and Wenceslaus had sent Neddy a fencing master who had studied with Johannes Liechtenauer himself, much to the annoyance of Richard's uncles, who felt he should be trained in the English school of swordsmanship, and everything else (especially Thomas, who is given to grumble about how the heir to the English throne should be raised as an Englishman, not a Bohemian).

"It will be all right," Richard says. "Besides," he adds, "you'll get to ride on a ship!" And he grins as Neddy's face lights up.

***

**October 1396**

The royal bedchamber at Calais is comfortable and beautifully furnished, and under any other circumstances, Anne would adore it, but right now, it's rocking back and forth like she's still on the ship, and she's curled up in a tight ball and can't properly appreciate her surroundings. She always likes to test the bed in a new location, but this time it's an absolute necessity.

"The children have settled down, at least," Richard says, climbing into bed beside Anne and rubbing her back gently. "I've talked to the nurses—they're both sleeping soundly. They were very surprised to see me instead of you, but Alison said she'd fed Joan before she went to sleep and everything's fine."

"Not seasick?" Neddy had been beside himself with excitement about the boat ride—a quality he did not inherit from Anne, who still shudders when she remembers the ships she arrived in colliding with each other and sinking, just after she'd disembarked—but the actual experience hadn't really been to his taste and he'd clung tightly to Richard's hand the whole time, looking a little green about the gills. The weather had not been on their side, and it was a long, queasy trip despite the short distance (Richard had assured them it was always easier on the way back). 

Richard bends in to kiss her temple. "Just overwrought," he says. "The trip here and the new surroundings—it's been a bit much for them. And I can't blame Neddy for being anxious. Come to think of it, _I'm_ kind of anxious. We're having dinner with the Dukes of Berry and Orléans in a few days and I still can't decide what to wear."

Anne smiles, but it soon fades. "I miss Elizabeth and Charles so much," she says. The two of them are at home in England, safely tucked up at Windsor Castle. They had decided that it wasn't prudent to take all four heirs to the throne on a ship overseas, and it probably would have been even more sensible to leave their younger daughter at home as well, but Joan is only a baby and Anne could not bear to leave her behind, even with her doting army of nurses and caretakers. "I have never been so far away from them. But I could not miss Neddy's wedding, either." She grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut against a fresh wave of nausea. "I hope I do not throw up in the middle of it."

"My poor Anne," Richard says, pressing closer to her, as much as he can while still far enough away to keep rubbing her back. "Try to sleep—it'll help."

"Do you think it was selfish of me to bring Joan along? She is still so little and traveling is hard and she threw up on the boat—"

"Anne, love," Richard says, "they are _fine_. Joan is fussy because she's a _baby_. Elizabeth and Charles still have Robert with them. And Neddy will be fine too—his life won't change at all for years yet, but he'll get to know Isabelle before they have to be married in anything but name."

Anne smiles, just a little—of course he knows what's _really_ bothering her. She turns over, very gingerly, so she can bury her face in her husband's chest and he can wrap his arms around her _and_ rub her back.

"It is just—then I think about little Isabelle, and how _she_ is leaving home, and she is scarcely older than our Elizabeth—" She breaks off then, her throat strangely tight. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry and here she is. They haven't even made any serious decisions about Elizabeth's eventual marriage, although there has been talk about arranging a betrothal between her and the Dauphin to further secure the alliance, and now she can't stop worrying about it. "I do not think I am ready for this. It is too soon."

"I know," Richard says, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. "Elizabeth isn't even old enough to be betrothed yet, not for a few more years, and we won't send her off for a few years after that. And Isabelle—the French court is troubled, Anne, since King Charles has been ill. She'll probably be safer in England than she would be at home."

"But that just makes me worry about Elizabeth, when she is older! What will we be sending her into if she marries the Dauphin?"

"Anne," Richard murmurs, "you're working yourself up about things that aren't going to happen for years. You'll make yourself sick again."

"I do not think I have anything left to throw up," Anne groans.

"All the more reason to go to sleep," Richard says. "Isn't that what you always tell me when I get worked up about things that aren't going to happen for years, or ever?"

Anne smiles, although her head is throbbing and her stomach is still uneasy and she's about to cry thinking about her daughters' future marriages. He's got her there. "I will sleep," she says, "if you stay here. And talk to me about something soothing."

Richard kisses her hair again, his hand still moving in circles on her back. "I was thinking," he begins, in a soft voice, "about wearing the green gown for the meeting with the Dukes? You know, the one with the dagged sleeves and the birds on it?" But she doesn't have a chance to weigh in on his choice, because before he finishes she's asleep.

***

The journey to Guisnes is much easier than the one to Calais, only a few hours on ground that is both relatively flat and blessedly firm, and Anne and the children are all in much better spirits upon their arrival than they had been when they arrived in Calais a few days previously. Neddy and Joan ride in a carriage with Joan's nurses, and Anne takes the opportunity to ride on horseback alongside Richard, which Richard always enjoys. They are accompanied by the Duke of Berry, King Charles' uncle, who makes excellent conversation—he is a great collector of manuscripts and _objets d'art,_ interests he shares with Richard—and they are met by King Charles' brother, the Duke of Orléans, with a retinue of five hundred men.

Richard and Anne dine with the French dukes that afternoon, exchanging gifts (a jeweled collar for the Duke of Berry, a gold goblet and ewer for the Duke of Orléans) and finalizing plans for the next day's meeting and the days after that. It's a cordial dinner, and Anne is as good a hostess as always, but they are both relieved when it's evening and they can get away to their solar to spend some time with the children before bed. 

"I've been thinking," Richard says, late in the evening after Neddy has been put to bed, "that since Neddy's coming along, we should bring Joan along to the meeting with Charles and Isabeau tomorrow. You know, to emphasize that we're not just King and Queen of England, but also loving parents. The kind of people who'll give their daughter a good home—which we will, of course."

Anne smiles. "Of course we will," she says. "I am very much looking forward to meeting her."

"You'll be the best mother-in-law ever," Richard says, leaning in to kiss her quickly on the lips before bending down to kiss Joan's forehead. Joan giggles, grabbing at Richard's beard, though it's short enough that she can't get much of a grip. He extricates himself carefully from her tiny clutches and sits back up.

Anne says something to Joan, in Czech so Richard doesn't understand it, but her tone is playfully scolding; she has a tendency to use Czech when she wants to admonish the children for something when there are other people around. Richard hopes that whatever she's saying works out to "Don't grab your father's beard." Then she looks back up at him and says, "I had a good example." She smiles. "I was terrified of your mother when I first came to England, you know," she adds.

"I never understood that," Richard says. 

"Well, she was beautiful, and tall—which is not something Isabelle will have to worry about—"

"Oh, shush," Richard says. "You are _incredibly_ beautiful. Though I _will_ admit you're not tall."

"You know what I mean," Anne says, swatting playfully at his arm. "And you could tell she was not worried about anyone's opinions of her, and when you are small and plain and shy, that is very frightening. But she was always kind to me, and she made sure I knew I was welcome, as far as she was concerned, and I will do the same for Isabelle, and for any other daughters-in-law we have." 

"She loved you," Richard says, and then sighs. "I miss her," he says. "I wish she'd lived to see our children."

"She would have been so proud," Anne says. "I miss her too. I like to think she is visiting with my mother in heaven—I have always thought they would have been friends. I think they would both be happy to know that their names live on." She lifts Joan off of her lap and places her in Richard's arms, and Richard beams.

"It's true." He lifts Joan up to give her another kiss on the forehead. "You were named after your grandmother, you know, Jeanette," he whispers to her, although he's told her this many times since she was born. She's only a baby, after all; perhaps it needs repetition to sink in. "She would have loved you so much, just like your mama and papa love you. I'm sure that she loves you right now, from heaven." 

Anne leans against Richard, and he wraps an arm around her while keeping the other firmly around Joan, who gurgles happily. She tilts her face up to kiss him before settling back to watch as Joan leans against her father's chest and begins to nod off, and they all sit in contented silence, a moment of blessed rest amidst the constant bustle.

"You know," Anne murmurs, after a while, "I hear Queen Isabeau is with child. More than six months, the gossip runs."

"Is that so?" Richard says, although of course he already knows.

"Mmm-hmm." Anne nods, a distinct smirk crossing her lips. "This would not be part of the inspiration for your decision to bring Joan to the meeting tomorrow, would it?"

"Are you suggesting that I want to prove that I am every bit as virile as the King of France, my darling?"

Anne raises her eyebrows, amused. "You said it, not I, _milàčku_."

Richard laughs. "It...may have crossed my mind," he admits. "But I did mean it about being reassuring and parental."

"Of course." Anne kisses him on the cheek. " _I_ have the utmost faith in your virility, anyway." 

"Well, I was about to offer you a demonstration," Richard says, raising his eyebrows back at her. "Once we get this little one to bed." 

Anne favors him with a heavy-lidded smile. "I will send for the nurse," she says, and kisses him.

***

Neddy has been grumpy all morning, since they've all had to get up extra early to go to Ardres. He rode with his mother and Joan and her nurse Alison in the carriage, which wasn't so bad since he fell asleep with Mama's arm around him, but then she woke him up, which was bad, and got a comb from Alison to _comb his hair_ , which was worse, especially since she went on about his beautiful curls and how they had to look nice for the King and Queen of France and how he had to remember not to squirm like that when they got there.

When he sees the field, though, he forgets to be cranky, because it looks like something out of a romance, with tents everywhere painted with heraldic symbols and flowers and animals, all in bright colors, with loud music playing as they approach, and everyone dressed in red and white livery. Neddy and his parents are all dressed in red velvet embroidered with white harts; even Joan's white linen dress and cap are embroidered in black and red at the edges. Everyone is there: his great-uncle John and great-aunt Katherine, the Duke and Duchess of Lancaster; his other great-uncle Thomas and his great-aunt Eleanor, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, and their daughter Anne, who Mama says is spiritually his sister because she's her goddaughter and is named after her; his cousins Henry and Edward, and Henry's son Hal, who are all Neddy's favorite cousins; Papa's friend Thomas Mowbray, and the Earl of Northumberland (who Papa doesn't like very much, but he's important so he has to be there). Hal waves to him when he catches sight of him, and Neddy waves back. Alison takes Joan off to make sure she's thoroughly fed and burped before the meeting, and Neddy is hustled into one of the tents for a bit of bread and cheese and some general inspection and tidying up. Mama is trying to comb his hair again until Papa steps in from a conversation with the Duke of Lancaster to interrupt. 

"He looks fine, Anne," Papa says. He reaches out to ruffle Neddy's hair, and then draws his hand back quickly, remembering what they've been talking about. 

"I know," Mama says. "I am just nervous, I suppose. Keeping Neddy's hair tidy gives me something to do." 

"You'll be wonderful," Papa says, bending in to kiss her, and then kneeling to give Neddy a hug. "Ready to go?" he says. Neddy nods, and hugs back, and Papa kisses him on the cheek. "They'll love you," he says. 

When it's time for them to meet the King and Queen of France, they all make a procession to the central pavilion, Papa holding Neddy's hand and Mama carrying Joan, with all their attendants behind them. The ground is marked up so that Papa and King Charles will have to walk exactly the same number of steps to meet each other. There are a lot of things you have to keep track of when you're king, Neddy reflects, but he's distracted from counting the markings by a sudden and loud burst of trumpets, and then they're all crossing the tent to meet the French.

The King of France is tall and thin like Papa, although thinner and not as tall, and dressed in a red gown like Papa as well, only his is shorter and trimmed in black. He has a long, pointy nose and big dark eyes, and he seems sad, although he is smiling. Papa and Mama have explained that if he says or does anything strange, it's because he's ill and can't help it, but it makes Neddy uneasy. The Queen is also tall, almost as tall as the King, with dark hair that's mostly hidden under a big pointed headdress, wearing a green gown with long fur-lined sleeves and lots of gold jewelry. Neddy wonders if Isabelle looks like her. 

Then both of the kings remove their hoods and everyone clasps hands and exchanges ceremonial kisses while all their attendants kneel. They coo over Neddy and Joan a bit, and then there are lots of presents, mostly golden cups and pitchers. King Charles gives Papa a golden nef with a bear holding it up and tigers in the boat part of it, which Neddy thinks is the best of all the boring grown-up presents because he likes the tigers and hopes Papa uses it at every banquet from now on. There are also presents for Neddy and Joan, more gilded cups but also toys, a coral teething ring in a silver setting for Joan, and for Neddy a pair of toy knights with strings attached so that you could make them fight each other. Neddy resolves to show them to Hal as soon as he gets a chance. Maybe he can show them to Isabelle when she joins their household. He doesn't know if girls usually like that sort of thing, but Elizabeth likes to play knights with him sometimes so maybe she will too.

After that there are all kinds of sweets—marchpane and gingerbread and candied fruit and nuts, along with cheese and wine—and they go to visit first the French tents and then their own. Mama hands Joan (and her new coral teething ring) off to the Duchess of Gloucester so she can walk arm in arm with Queen Isabeau and also hold Neddy's hand. There is a scary moment when King Charles suddenly stumbles, stops, and sways like he's going to fall over, but Papa catches him and has a seat brought for him and both he and Queen Isabeau say things to him in soft voices while Mama squeezes Neddy's hand and in a moment he's all right. Neddy is relieved, anyway, when the whole meeting is over, and he's able to lie down in their tent for a while. 

It rains all day Saturday, and the tents are suddenly very crowded because many of the French tents got washed away. Neddy is allowed to stay in his family's tent, where he spends a lot of time with his cousin Hal playing with the toy knights King Charles gave him. Papa goes to see King Charles again and returns with more presents, mostly gold and jeweled altar tablets, so not very interesting, although Papa and Mama, who like that sort of thing, like them a lot. Later the French host a long banquet that Neddy does have to go to, where the Duke of Bourbon tells a lot of jokes that Neddy doesn't get but that make all the grown-ups laugh. He wishes Elizabeth and Charles were here because they'd probably get to stay in the English tents to eat and maybe he could stay with them. 

They spend Sunday at Guisnes, where some of the French ladies come to visit Mama and the Duchesses of Lancaster and Gloucester, but on Monday they return to the pavilion to meet with the King and Queen of France again, and to meet Princess Isabelle for the first time. Papa and Mama look like they came out of a romance, Neddy thinks, wearing matching outfits of cloth of gold and blue with rich red undergowns, and Mama is wearing her tallest headdress. Neddy's own clothes match those of his parents, but he doesn't feel particularly handsome or comfortable—the fabric is too stiff and the collar is way too high and itches. Papa said it would help support the heavy coronet on his head, but Neddy doesn't think it's doing a very good job because it still makes his head hurt. Still, he doesn't want to fidget in front of the King of France like a dumb baby, even if his parents weren't watching. They exchange presents again while they're all waiting for the Princess to come in, and then she's here, being led to the pavilion on a richly-caparisoned white horse. Papa and Mama each put a hand on Neddy's shoulders as her attendants help her down from the saddle, and then she's escorted by the French lords and ladies to the center of the pavilion. 

Neddy would have to admit, if you asked him, which thankfully nobody is doing, that Isabelle is pretty, with long dark hair and big dark eyes. She is wearing a blue dress with fleurs-de-lis embroidered in gold, and a glittering crown decorated with lilies and broomscods made of sapphires and pearls. She looks at Neddy and gives him a shy smile, and he can't help but smile back. King Charles beams first at Papa and then at Neddy.

"Dearest brother," he says to Papa. "Dearest son," he adds, looking down at Neddy, "I commend to you this creature, the dearest to me over all creatures in the world, except the Dauphin and our wife." He places Isabelle's hand in Neddy's; Isabelle turns pink and Neddy can feel his own cheeks getting hot. 

"She is the most precious gift," Papa says, "and we offer you our most heartfelt thanks." He squeezes Neddy's shoulder, and Neddy looks up at King Charles and adds, "Thank you...father." It feels funny to say, but King Charles smiles at him. Isabelle glances back at her parents for an instant, and then releases Neddy's to curtsy twice, first to Neddy's parents and then to Neddy himself. 

They're supposed to give each other the kiss of peace now, which Neddy hasn't been looking forward to and he assumes Isabelle hasn't either. He decides it's best to get it over with and leans in, giving her a quick peck, except they bump noses and Isabelle almost jumps back. "Sorry," he whispers, hoping she hears him because everyone is applauding politely.

"It's all right," she whispers back.

"Are you nervous?" Neddy whispers, and she nods. "Me, too," he adds.

After all of the bowing and handshakes and kissing and thank-yous there's a huge banquet at the English tents. Neddy sits at the high table with Isabelle and all four of their parents, and everyone exchanges more presents, the best of which (as far as Neddy is concerned) is the war horse his father gives King Charles, with a silver-gilt saddle. When he is king, he thinks, he's going to give _everyone_ horses whenever he's expected to give presents. They're much better presents than golden cups, and even better than the nef with the tigers. It's sitting at the table right now; Neddy and Isabelle had both put their coins into it at the start of the banquet.

The music played as the servants bring in the dishes is loud enough that Neddy can't actually _talk_ to Isabelle, unless he wants to shout, which isn't good manners. This is all right as far as Neddy is concerned, because he doesn't know what to talk about to a girl he's just met and is going to marry in a couple of days. He wonders if his own parents had trouble talking to each other when they first met.

It's an even longer banquet than the one on Saturday. There are so many dishes—meat stews and soups with eggs and honey, custard tarts and meat tarts and fruit tarts, fritters and jellies (Neddy _hates_ jellies, but they always seem to serve them at feasts), and every kind of meat, oxen and venison and pigs and rabbits, roast chickens and geese and pigeons and swans and partridges and even more birds than that. There's fish cooked three different ways with three different-colored sauces; gilded tarts with everyone's banners stuck in them; an almond pudding colored red, yellow, and blue; and, best of all, a roast peacock dressed in its own feathers that breathes fire as it's brought to the table. Between each course a marvelous subtlety is brought in. There's a green terrace with a lady sitting with a lion, with his head in her lap, and all kinds of wild beasts; the Swan Knight in his boat—Neddy looks down towards his cousin Harry, who is happy to see that one because the Swan Knight was his ancestor, on his mother's side, and that's why their family's badge is a swan—and an enormous castle with both French and English banners hanging from the battlements. 

"It's nice to meet you," he finally says, once the music has quieted down a bit and everyone is able to eat. They have those meatballs that are decorated to look like apples, which Neddy likes, and multiple varieties of tarts, which he likes even more.

"It is good to meet you too...Édouard," she says, and smiles. Her French sounds different from the French he is used to.

"Thank you," he says. "Everyone calls me Neddy, though, at least, my family does. I guess that means you, too."

"Neddy," she repeats, and grins. She's still missing her front teeth, which makes Neddy feel a little proud of himself because he has his grown-up front teeth, but then, she is a whole year younger than him. One of his not-quite-front teeth is getting loose, too, and he wiggles it nervously with his tongue. "I've never met anyone called Neddy."

"Well, now you have," Neddy says. "There's lots of Edwards at court though. My father says I'm named after five of them. They're all dead though. I never met any of them," he adds, in case it makes her sad, or in case she remembers exactly who his grandfather was, which probably isn't a good thing to talk to a French person about. "There's loads of Isabelles, too." He looks down at his hands. That was kind of a dumb thing to say. He looks down the table to his parents, who are talking busily with King Charles and Queen Isabeau. It's probably easier to talk to new people when you're a grownup. 

Isabelle follows his gaze. "I like your mother and father," she says. "They are very kind." 

"They're so happy about you coming to England," Neddy says. "They're the best." He realizes then that she might take that as an insult to her parents. He doesn't really know what King Charles and Queen Isabeau are like, only having spoken a few words with them, although it can't be fun to have a father who is ill all the time. Still, if someone he'd just met had said anything about Papa he'd be pretty mad at them, and he feels his cheeks go warm again. "I'm sure your parents are also great."

Isabelle nods, suddenly very interested in a custard tart. "They are," she says. "Especially my mother—" She bites her lip. "They're great," she says. 

"I'm sorry," Neddy says, and Isabelle looks up from her custard tart to smile shyly at him. 

"It's all right," she says. 

"We can talk about something else," Neddy says. He thinks for a minute, and then he perks up. "Do you like tournaments?"

***

As the banquet winds down and the servants bring in the cheeses and sweetmeats, gingerbread and custard tarts, pears in syrup and sugared wafers, Anne finally takes a moment to breathe. Neddy and Isabelle are chattering away, seeming friendly enough; Richard is having a low-voiced and fairly serious-looking conversation with Charles. She takes a long sip of wine and closes her eyes for just a moment, not long enough for anyone to notice.

"You've done a marvelous job on the banquet," a voice says—Isabeau, in German. Anne has promised Richard she won't discuss imperial politics with Isabeau, who is, after all, a Wittelsbach and would probably have a lot of things to say to a Luxemburg, none of them very complimentary given her brother's performance as Emperor-elect. But of course, Isabeau is clearly a bright woman, who is just as concerned with diplomacy as Anne is. She's probably made the exact same promise to _her_ husband.

"Thank you," Anne says. "You've been a lovely hostess, yourself." 

Isabeau smiles. "It's so good to speak German again," she says. "French people assume the _whole world_ speaks French." She takes a piece of candied quince and nibbles delicately at it.

Anne laughs. "Are they wrong, though? They even speak it at the English court, and when I first arrived I thanked God for it, because I didn't speak a word of English."

"And now?" 

"I can speak a _word_ of English, at least. It's like speaking German but with enough French in it to be confusing."

Isabeau laughs, in turn. "I couldn't even speak French when I was first married," she said, and then a sly smile tugs at her lips. "Not that it mattered, back then." She raises an eyebrow at Anne, who grins at her, until her face falls a bit and she sighs. Anne swallows hard. Wenceslaus had wanted her to marry King Charles, although the French had had no interest in a penniless bride, even if she was the Emperor's daughter. Isabeau's fate, had things been different, might have been her own, and she thanks God once again for sending her to Richard. She has heard the stories of King Charles' illness, and her heart swells with pity, mingled with relief. Richard has his moods, of course, and she could probably handle it if he accidentally set the court on fire, but if he were ever to forget who she was, or who the children were, she thinks she would die. But she can't imagine Isabeau would welcome pity from the Queen of England, even though she is, more or less, her countrywoman. She looks back at Richard, who is conversing with Charles, but not so intensely that he doesn't notice Anne's eye on him; he smiles warmly at her and she smiles back, until she looks back at Isabeau, who is watching her with her lips pressed tightly together. Anne has heard that she and Charles were very much in love, at first, and her cheeks grow warm.

"Isabelle is a lovely girl," she says, changing the subject just enough. "You both must be so proud of her." 

"She's the most precious thing," Isabeau says, her eyes shining. "The light of my life—all of my children are, but she was the first to survive…" She swallows hard, then takes a sip of wine to compose herself. "Edward is clearly a very sweet boy," she says. "I'm sure you're every bit as proud of him."

Anne nods, suddenly feeling wistful herself. "I don't know if I can say I've lost two children," she says, "because my first two never quickened. But it grieved my heart nevertheless. We had been married six years when Neddy was born, and were beginning to lose hope that we would ever have a child—but he came along at the end of the worst year of our lives. He was our miracle."

"They all are," Isabeau says, and Anne nods, crossing herself. Isabeau does the same, and adds, "Your baby girl is a little darling, too—and I must compliment your choice of names." She smiles. "My second daughter is also a Jeanne."

"I wish I could meet her, and her younger sisters and brother," Anne says. "And that you could meet my older daughter, and my younger son. He is also called Charles, like your little boy, and my husband's uncles grumbled constantly about that. It was not English enough, they said." 

"We're always too foreign, aren't we?" Isabeau says. "No matter how hard we try." She takes another sip of wine, and then looks back up at Anne. "You'll protect her from that, won't you? I know how important this marriage is, but—she's my baby girl."

"I promise," Anne says, her throat tightening, thinking of Elizabeth and Joan, and how hard it will be to let them go. "I'll look after her as though she were my own."

***

Anne pays a visit to Isabelle, the night before the wedding. It was difficult for her to say goodbye to her parents, but over the last few days, the soon-to-be-Princess of Wales has been slowly adjusting to the rhythm of life in a new household. She still has her French ladies, who will come to England with her, so that seems to have granted her a sense of stability, and she also appears to enjoy Anne's company, and that of the Duchesses of Lancaster and Gloucester, and the Countesses of Huntingdon and Stafford. The latter, at thirteen, is the closest thing to a girl her age, so Isabelle seems especially fond of her; it pleases Anne to see her daughter-in-law and her goddaughter becoming friends.

It pleases her even more, though, to see her daughter-in-law beginning to be friends with her son. Isabelle and Neddy seem willing to seek out each other's company; they even enjoy playing with the knight puppets King Charles had given Neddy. This evening, though, they seem to have remembered the strange new situation they're in, and both have reverted to being a bit shy and awkward around one another. 

Isabelle has not gone to bed yet when Anne comes to her chamber, although she's dressed for it, sitting on the bed in her smock and robe, clutching a set of coral prayer beads. When she sees Anne, she leaps to her feet and curtsies.

"It is all right," Anne says, motioning to her to sit back down. Isabelle regards her with wide eyes for a moment before obeying. "I have just come to say good night. I spoke to Lady de Coucy. She is right outside—I just wanted to see you before you go to sleep."

"All right," Isabelle says. 

"May I sit down?" Anne says, and Isabelle nods again, her eyes still wide—perhaps she wouldn't expect Anne to ask permission. Which is reasonable enough, she supposes, as she sits beside her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law. "It is all right, you know, if you are scared."

"I know," Isabelle says. "Maman said she was scared too, when she came to France to marry Papa." 

"Did she?" Anne says. "I am not surprised. I was scared when I first came to England, and I was quite a few years older than you. It was a very long journey, and I had a great deal of time to worry."

"How far away is Bohemia?" Isabelle says. 

"Oh, hundreds of miles," Anne says. "It took nearly two months to get to England, which was lots of time to be nervous. And I had no dowry and was not very pretty—neither of which is true about you."

Isabelle smiles up at her. "I think you're pretty," she says. 

"You are a sweet girl," Anne says, smiling. "What I meant, though, is that King Richard made me feel very welcome in England, and we both understand that it is hard to come to a new country, especially as young as you are. You will always be safe with us, Isabelle, and I think you will come to be happy in England, too, just as I have. Your sister- and brother-in-law are so excited to meet you, and we are all so glad to have you as part of our family." 

Isabelle nods. "I'm not scared, though," she says. 

"You are a brave girl, too," Anne says.

"Is there fighting? At the English court?"

Anne's eyes widen as it dawns on her why Isabelle might not be afraid to leave home. "A little," she says. "I suppose there always is, at courts. It is not too bad, though." 

"Because King Richard isn't ill like my papa?" Isabelle's eyes are wide and serious, and it makes Anne want to cry. She had never known her own father very well; he had been far too busy, as Emperor, to spend much time with his daughters, and he was already an old man when she was born, and in failing health, and yet if he had been unable to recognize Anne, it would have broken her heart.

"I am so sorry, _kuřátko,_ " she says. "I know your father loves you, just as your mother does—I could see it, when I met them. But I know it must also be frightening for you." She holds out her arms. "Do you want a hug?"

After a moment, Isabelle leans into her arms, and Anne holds her close and strokes her hair.

***

After Isabelle has been returned to the care of Lady de Coucy, Anne checks in on Neddy on her way to bed. He's already under the covers, but as Anne draws closer to give him a kiss goodnight, she sees he's lying awake. She sits on his bed and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Still awake?" she says, and he nods. "Did Papa come in to say goodnight?" 

"He did," Neddy says. "I couldn't sleep, though."

"Poor Neddy," Anne says. "This has all been so much for you. Do you want a hug?" Neddy nods again and sits up, and Anne wraps her arms around him and kisses the top of his head. "I know you are worried," she says. "I do not think I slept a wink between the day I met your father and the day we married. But it is a little easier, when you are older—I knew even then I would be happy with your father, but I was almost grown then."

"Do you think I'll be happy with Isabelle?" Neddy asks, his voice muffled against her shoulder. 

Anne smiles. "I think so," she says. "Do you like her? You seemed to have fun playing together over the past few days."

"She's nice," Neddy says. 

"Yes, she is." Anne rubs his back gently, like she used to when he was a baby. "She will need friends when she comes to England, Neddy. It is very hard to leave your family, after all, and it is even harder to come to a new country. We must all make her feel welcome—your life will not change very much, not for years, but hers will be very different."

"I know," Neddy says. 

"You are a sweet boy," Anne says, as she does every night when saying goodnight, "and I love you so much, and your father loves you, and your sisters and brother love you."

"Even Joan?" Neddy asks, but Anne can hear the smile in his voice. It's the customary reply, after all, or it has been since Joan was born back in January. "She's just a baby."

"Even Joan," Anne says, "although she is too little to know it."

"I love you too, Mama," Neddy says. 

"I know," Anne says, and kisses his head again. "If I stay here for a while, will it help you sleep?" Neddy nods again, and she adds, "Then lie back and close your eyes."

After a moment, Neddy releases her and lies back down, and Anne strokes his hair, singing to him like she used to when he was smaller:

" _Jezu Kriste, štědrý kněže,  
s Otcem, s Duchem jeden Bože,  
tvoje štědrost naše zboží,  
Kyrieleison_."

She makes it through nearly all the verses before he's asleep.

***

Edward of Sheen, Prince of Wales, and Isabelle de Valois are married at St. Nicholas church in Calais, on the fourth of November. After the wedding, the young bride and groom are showered with gifts, and there is much weeping on the part of both sets of parents. Even the Duke of Gloucester, who has never been an advocate of peace with France, is surprisingly courteous.

Afterward, the journey home is swift, with favorable winds. Everyone aboard considers it a blessing and an omen.

***

**Epilogue: January 1397**

The snow is piling rapidly on the windowsills and the late-afternoon shadows are growing long—it is only half none, but it will be dark soon—but the fire in the solar is crackling merrily away, and Richard, Anne, and Robert are curled up together on the settle as they watch the children play. 

"All right, now, this one's called the Plough, and what you do is, you hold your feet like this and your sword out like this—" Neddy demonstrates the stance, and Charles clutches his little wooden practice sword and attempts to imitate him. "No, that's not how you do it! Like _this_!" He tries to take hold of Charles' sword, but before he can get much of a grip, the (mercifully blanket-wrapped) blade makes sharp contact with Neddy's shins, making him yelp and Charles giggle. "He hit me!" Neddy squawks.

" _Karlíčku, pojď sem!_ " Anne says, and Charles toddles over to the settle. 

"Careful not to run with that," Richard adds, gently extracting the wooden sword from his hand before picking him up and placing him in his mother's lap so she can admonish him for hitting his brother, and then give him a hug. 

"There's a reason you don't start learning to fight until you're six," Robert says to Neddy, who is sulking and rubbing his shins dramatically. "Come on, let's go play with Isabelle and your sisters."

Elizabeth and Isabelle have become fast friends, in the months since Isabelle has come to England. They're playing with their dolls by the fireside, with the magnificent dollhouse Isabelle brought with her to England and the equally magnificent dollhouse Richard had had made for Elizabeth shortly after she was born. The storyline they've been enacting, as far as Richard can pick up from snatches of conversation, is more complicated than one of Master Chaucer's tales, with a sorcerer and at least three dragons and a knight who can change shape and a wild boar and a pagan army and wild men—although they'd had a fight about this, because that particular subject had upset Isabelle—and a giantess, who came into the story whenever Joan expressed an interest in the game. There was also supposed to be an enormous greyhound, but Mathe has thus far been more interested in napping by the fire. 

"Can I teach _them_ fencing moves?" Neddy says.

"If they want," Robert says. "And you don't try to teach them to Joan." Robert sits on the floor beside the girls and scoops up Joan, who is chewing on an abandoned toy knight, before lying back among the rushes and lifting her high above his head. Joan shrieks with glee, kicking her legs and giggling as he tilts her upside down so he can plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Do you want to learn some fencing moves?" Neddy asks the older girls, and they look at each other for a moment. 

"Only if you'll play dolls with us after," Isabelle says. 

Neddy chews his lip for a moment. "All right," he says. "I'll get the other sword."

Richard smiles and picks up the wooden sword from beside him on the settle. "Can you go be your brother's squire?" he asks Charles, who is still snuggled in his mother's lap. "Bring him this sword—but no hitting, remember?"

"I won't," says Charles. 

"Good boy," Anne says. She kisses his cheeks and then releases him so he can trot solemnly over to his brother and sisters, holding the wooden sword in front of him in both hands and bowing to Neddy like a squire would. Neddy ruffles his hair before taking the sword and handing it to Elizabeth.

"Now," Neddy says, "there's five words you have to know first: _vor, noch, swach, stark, und indes._ "

Elizabeth and Isabelle both squint skeptically at him. "What?" Elizabeth says.

"It's _German,_ " Neddy says. "You know German. It's 'before, after, weak, strong, and meanwhile.' Meister Engelhardt says that's the five things you need to know—"

"I know what the _words_ mean." Elizabeth waves the wooden sword around. "What's it have to do with swordfighting?"

"Well, I was _getting_ to that…" 

Anne, still watching them from the settle, shakes her head and smiles. "I am so glad they are all getting along," she says, leaning against Richard. "You would think Isabelle is their sister, to see them all together."

Richard wraps his arm around her shoulders and rests his cheek against the top of her head. "You would," he says. "I hope it doesn't make things too awkward, when they're older."

"I think it will be all right," Anne says. "My brother and his first wife—God have mercy on her," she adds, crossing herself— "married at that age, and they were very happy together."

"Speaking of new siblings we've brought back from Calais," Richard says, adjusting his grip so that his arm is around Anne's waist, rather than her shoulder, and directing a meaningful glance toward her belly, just barely beginning to swell. "When should we tell them about this one?"

"Soon enough," Anne says. "But it is nice to have a secret, for now. And it is in the interests of peace. It is such a lovely, cozy afternoon. Consider it an anniversary gift."

Richard laughs. "Fifteen years ago today," he says. "Half a lifetime ago."

"And the weather was just like this," Anne adds, "but I could barely even feel the cold." She beams up at him, and he bends in to kiss her.

"Just think," Richard says. "By the time Neddy and Isabelle have _their_ fifteenth anniversary, we'll all be at peace."

"I feel very at peace right now," Anne says, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"You know what I meant," Richard says, and he can hear the smile in Anne's voice when she replies.

"I do," she says.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

**We're under a truce:** The Truce of Leulinghem, signed in June 1389 and intended as a stopgap measure, as internal strife in both countries made the war unfeasible to maintain. I am assuming in this fic that the course of the war has thus far followed real life.

 **the King of Hungary:** Anne's younger brother Sigismund (1368–1437), King of Hungary and Croatia, later Holy Roman Emperor (from 1411) and King of Bohemia (from 1419). In 1396, he led a multinational army against an Ottoman army at Nicopolis, which defeated them handily (nobody in this story knows that yet). 

**Henry of Lancaster** went on crusade in Lithuania in 1390, where he fought alongside the Teutonic Knights at Vilnius (although Lithuania, the last pagan holdout in Europe, had already begun its conversion process in 1386). 

Richard II's first **Irish campaign** in 1394–95 was deemed fairly successful although it had few long-term effects; in real life, he was planning an expedition even before Anne of Bohemia died in June 1394. He still does so in this AU, but he's in a much better place mentally.

 **Johannes Liechtenauer:** the most famous and influential of medieval German fencing masters and the probable founder of the German school of swordsmanship. The fencing references that appear in the epilogue are based on his writings. 

**Wenceslaus IV** (1361–1419), Anne's half-brother, was Emperor-elect (until 1400) and King of Bohemia. At the time this story takes place he has only recently been released from imprisonment at the hands of the Bohemian nobility; presumably he sent Neddy's fencing master to England before that happened.

 **a great collector of manuscripts:** Jean, Duke of Berry, is best known for his beautiful illuminated Books of Hours, most famously [_Les Très Riches Heures_](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Tr%C3%A8s_Riches_Heures_du_Duc_de_Berry).

As the meeting of the two kings at **Ardres** included, both in real life and in this story, a great deal of exchanging of gifts, I have made a number of references to Richard's surviving 1399 treasure roll, which is the subject of Jenny Stratford's _Richard II and the English Royal Treasure_ (Boydell & Brewer, 2012). Information on the treasure roll is also available [here](https://archives.history.ac.uk/richardII/index.html). Much of the day-to-day timeline at Ardres comes from Kathryn Warner's _A True King's Fall_ (Amberley, 2017) because she cites good sources (e.g. Nigel Saul, Michael Bennett, and the aforementioned Stratford book) and breaks them down into a handy timeline. All of the gifts exchanged by the two kings are accurate, as are their outfits. 

**because she's her goddaughter:** The reference to Anne of Bohemia being the godmother of Anne of Gloucester, Countess of Stafford is purely speculative on my part. However, I think it makes sense given the younger Anne's date of birth in 1383, a little after a year after Anne of Bohemia's arrival in England; Thomas and Eleanor may have wanted to compliment the new queen, and having a royal godparent would be an honor. Children were usually named after one of their godparents, and Anne was not a very common name among the English nobility in the fourteenth century, though it would later become ubiquitous. 

A **nef** is a vessel, usually shaped like a ship, used to store utensils or collect alms during banquets. The one Richard receives from Charles is described [here](https://archives.history.ac.uk/richardII/vessels.html).

 **the Dauphin:** Also called Charles. Historically, he died in 1401, aged eight. 

**King Charles' illness:** Charles VI suffered a psychotic break in 1392 and suffered from debilitating episodes of mental illness for the rest of his life. Some modern historians posit that he suffered from schizophrenia. The reference to **setting the court on fire** is to the 1393 [Bal des Ardents](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bal_des_Ardents), in which a number of the participants in a court masque, including Charles himself, were set on fire by a stray torch and several of them died. The dancers were dressed as hairy wild men (in highly flammable costumes), which is why that subject upsets Isabelle later in the story.

 **There are so many dishes** : the menu for the feast owes a lot to the [menu](https://www.innatthecrossroads.com/finish-feasts-epic-proportions/) for one held by the Bishop of Durham for Richard and John of Gaunt in September of 1387. I've also consulted [_The Forme of Cury_](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8102), a cookbook compiled by Richard's master chefs c. 1390, and [_Le Viandier_](http://www.telusplanet.net/public/prescotj/data/viandier/viandier1.html) by Taillevent, master chef to Charles VI. _Le Viandier_ was especially useful in describing the subtleties. 

The houses of **Wittelsbach** and **Luxemburg** were rival families in the Holy Roman Empire, who between them had held the title of Emperor since 1312. As Emperor-elect, Wenceslaus IV was extremely unpopular in Germany for devoting all of his time and energy to Bohemia, where he was also extremely unpopular. He was deposed in 1400 after failing to appear before the electors to answer their complaints; they elected Rupert III of the house of Wittelsbach to replace him.

 **Lady de Coucy:** Marguerite de Coucy, Isabelle's governess. In real life, she was sent back to France in 1399 for excessive extravagance.

 **Jezu Kriste, štědrý kněže:** "Jesus Christ, generous priest, with the Father and the Spirit one God, your bounty is our treasure." You can hear this lovely Bohemian hymn [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSGw5V697EA). The text was probably written by Jan of Jenštejn, Archbishop of Prague (and former chancellor to Wenceslaus IV), not by Jan Hus as tradition has it. He is still alive at the time this story takes place, though recently retired.

 ** _Karlíčku, pojď sem_ :** "Charlie, come here."

 **My brother and his first wife:** Johanna of Bavaria (c. 1362–86) married Wenceslaus IV in 1370, when he was nine and she was about eight. She died in 1386 at the age of 23 or 24.

 **Fifteen years ago today:** Richard and Anne married on January 20, 1382.


End file.
